From the Omaha Daily Bee, September 12, 1912. Author Unknown. In the softly fading twilight Of a weary, weary day, With a quiet step I entered Where the children were at play; I was brooding over some trouble Which had met me unawares, When a little voice came ringing: “Me is creeping up the stairs.” Ah, it touched the tenderest heart-strings With a breath and force divine, And such melodies awakened As no wording can define. And I turned to see our darling, All forgetful of my cares, When I saw the little creature Slowly creeping up the stairs. Step by step she bravely clambered On her little hands and knees, Keeping up a constant chattering, Like a magpie in the trees, Till at last she reached the topmost When over all her world’s affairs She delightfully stood a victor After creeping up the stairs. Fainting heart, behold an image Of man’s brief and struggling life, Whose best prizes must be captured With a noble, earnest strife; Onward, upward reaching ever, Bending to the weight of cares, Hoping, fearing, still expecting, We go creeping up the stairs. On their steps may be no carpet, By their side may be no rail; Hands and knees may often pain us, And the heart may almost fail; Still above there is the glory, Which no sinfulness impairs, With its joy and rest forever, After creeping up the stairs.